NaNo; enemies to lovers; chapter 15 of Night & Day (which is n s f w, by the way!)

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Hello, favorites!

It's National Novel Writing Month!

Don't know what I'm talking about? You can learn more on the NaNoWriMo website.

The static goal for participants in National Novel Writing Month is to write 50,000 words. I don't write 50,000 words every month, but most months I write at least that much. So, to make it special, and because I'm a little bananas, I decided to write 100,000 words.

Do you ever set goals that cause you to reach? Goals you know may not be obtainable? I do, and I lovingly call them my "stupid goals."

For some people, I think stupid goals can be a bad idea. But I like having to stretch myself in pursuit of a goal, and I'm not devastated if I don't make it.

For those of you who are also participating in NaNoWriMo, did you set a non-standard goal? And how was your day one?

What I'm reading

I read Hostile Takeover by Lucy Lennox, which I've been so looking forward to. I loved it!

In addition to all the happy feelings the book gave me, it got me thinking about one of my favorite tropes: enemies to lovers.

Sometimes I excitedly pick up a book that's recommended to me as enemies-to-lovers, and then I find myself asking: are they really enemies?

Sometimes that question is hard to answer. What does it take to make me believe that characters are true enemies? Sometimes even I don't know!

A few friends and I have discussed this trope more than once, and the other day when it came up, someone used Captive Prince by C.S. Pacat as an example. We all agreed it passes the enemies-to-lovers test. But if Captive Prince is the gold standard, it's hard to meet.

I think a Captive Prince enemies-to-lovers standard goes too far. There was no brother-killing in Hostile Takeover, for example, and it totally worked for me. ;)

Do you like enemies to lovers? What's your gold standard for this trope?

What I'm writing

If you've read the whole email, you already know about my very stupid NaNoWriMo goal. And if you've been here in the mailing list for long, you may have heard me claim to not enjoy working on multiple projects at once.

I'm beginning to wonder if I'm a) lying to myself or b) a teensy bit masochistic. Because as usual, I am totally working on multiple projects at once.

This month they are:

1. As the Tallgrass Grows, book 4 of the Wild Ones series
2. Night & Day chapters for future newsletters
3. Magpie, a newsletter-exclusive short story about Robbie and Lance from Long Winter and Signs of Spring.
4. Undertow, our last mailing list serial, which I'm rewriting with a new and improved plot (but the same characters we know and love!)

Have a great week.

xo,

Rachel

find me in more places

Website | Rachel's Party Barn on Facebook | Instagram | Discord

my books

Long Winter | Signs of Spring | Burning Season | As the Tallgrass Grows

Jaywalking | Sleepwalker

***

NIGHT & DAY

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

When Ty put his hands on his body and lifted his face toward Jonathan’s, Jonathan automatically gripped his waist and bent his head to meet him.

Only when their lips were an inch apart did he freeze, overwhelmed by the reality of touching Ty the way he'd had half-formed dreams of doing, all of it so forbidden and intense that he'd never let himself picture it in detail. But the reality of Ty, up close and begging silently to be kissed, was made up of a thousand small, stunning details. Ty's eyes were so bright they seemed to glow. The tip of his nose was the slightest bit round. His breath puffed warm on Jonathan’s chin and smelled of mint toothpaste. He had a single, slightly uneven lower incisor in a row of otherwise perfect teeth. 

And his body was taut and lean through his clothes, the lingering chill of the fall evening in the fabric. Jonathan wanted to warm him. If either one of them moved forward an inch, Ty would be pressed to him, thigh to thigh and chest to chest. Jonathan's hands tightened on Ty's waist and it took all his will not to yank him forward against his chest.

Ty exhaled, and the heat in his eyes turned questioning, as a long second ticked by where they didn't move. Then he bit his lip, and seeing that he was about to pull back, to apologize—Jonathan's whole heart rebelled.

He shouldn't kiss Ty, for the dozen reasons he'd been constantly reminding himself of in the safety of daylight, when he and Ty were apart. At those times the reasons made perfect sense. But now he couldn't remember any of them.

"I've been wanting to do this since the day we met," he murmured, and pulled Ty to him.

Jonathan tasted Ty's trembling lower lip—once, twice—and then, with a whimper, Ty slid his hands from Jonathan's chest to his shoulders, and Jonathan pulled him closer, groaning at the feeling of Ty, solid and perfect, against him.

"Oh," Ty moaned, and locked his arms around Jonathan's neck, kissing him fiercely. "Please," he said when they paused. "Please."

Maybe Jonathan's mind was addled, or maybe it was clear for the first time in his life. Whatever it was, he was absolutely certain he knew what Ty was begging for. He hoisted Ty up and immediately, Ty wrapped his legs around Jonathan's waist as tightly as his arms were wrapped around his neck. Jonathan carried him into his bedroom, breaking their kiss so he could navigate the last few feet in the mostly dark. That freed Ty to kiss his neck, once with his warm lips and again with the added press of his hot tongue, making Jonathan's knees so weak he practically fell over Ty onto the bed once they got there. He was wild with the urge to pin him there and touch and kiss every part of him until he was properly worshiped, undone and spent.

Realizing, fact, that it was the most excellent idea he'd ever had, he went about getting Ty naked, impeded somewhat by the fact that he couldn't stop kissing Ty, and Ty's arms were still locked around his neck, caging him in. He was shockingly strong for someone so slender.

Jonathan shifted his knees under him so he could lift his hips off of Ty and fumble one-handed between them for the button of Ty's jeans, then his zippered fly. He smiled into their kisses when his fingertips grazed Ty's swollen cock through his briefs, making Ty swear.

"Fuck,” he breathed. Then, “Please," he pleaded again, bucking up toward Jonathan's hand. Jonathan pinned Ty's body down with his own to keep him still, straddling Ty's hard thigh and glorying in the pressure on his own cock, which was straining inside his own spandex boxers. He got his hand around Ty, his cock surprisingly fat and long. Jonathan would have loved the feel of him at any size, but he was instantly addicted to Ty's specific heft. He wanted him naked on a pedestal so Jonathan could look at him from every angle, exquisitely petite body so enormously hung… the thought made him groan. 

As Jonathan explored his girth wonderingly with gentle circles of his fingertips and light squeezes of his palm, Ty began to babble, "Please, please, please!"

"I've got you," Jonathan promised. "Shh. Look at me."

He continued to stroke Ty slowly, gently, not in earnest; his hand was dry and he didn't want to chafe all this soft, tight skin. Besides, glorious as Ty felt in his hand, Jonathan knew he'd feel even better in his mouth.

Ty's eyes were the slightest bit damp, making his eyelashes spiky and his eyes brighter even than usual. He blinked a few times and then stared at Jonathan obediently, his breath coming in soft pants.

"Good," Jonathan said, his voice a low rumble that he almost didn't recognize. "Can I suck you off?"

Ty's eyes got wider. "You—but—yes. God, yes."

Jonathan felt like he could float. "Good." He bent down and kissed Ty again, because he couldn't resist, like he'd walked a hundred miles without water and Ty's swollen lips were his cup. "Don't move," he added when they broke apart, and then he slid down Ty's body, kissing him and breathing him in as he went.

Ty still wore his shirt, but it was askew, rucked up to expose one pebbled nipple, which Jonathan paused to attend to until Ty was pulling his hair and arching his hips, like he couldn't decide where he wanted Jonathan more, doing exactly what he was doing or something similar lower down.

When he was ready, and not before, Jonathan’s attentions traveled south, where he arranged himself between Ty's spread legs. He held Ty's jerking hips still with both hands while he nuzzled the soft concavity of Ty's stomach, with its trail of sparse dark hair, then kissed along the tattoo that snaked past his hip and disappeared into the top of his hairy thigh. He paused just long enough to get Ty out of his jeans and briefs, which freed his big, ruddy cock.

It had felt big, but when it was an inch from Jonathan's face it was bigger. He licked his hand, which made Ty, who'd been up on his elbows watching with those feverishly bright eyes, dark gold as cat’s, sigh out a "Fuck!" and collapse back onto the bed. Jonathan gripped his shaft and continued to explore with lips and tongue—the thicket of hair at his base, the softer fuzz on his balls, which were large and almost pendulous. Jonathan could probably get three fingers around his sac and pull if he wanted to, and though he'd never done such a thing before, the idea of fucking Ty which holding his balls in his fist made him want to hump the mattress.

For now, though... he lined himself up at the angle that would make taking Ty easiest, and sheathed Ty's thick length with his mouth.

It was just as good as he'd known it would be—more so, because he hadn't imagined how Ty would clutch at his hair and jerk involuntarily against him, then quake with the urge of holding himself still until he forgot himself and lurched his hips again in perfect, uncontrolled response. Jonathan had never sucked off someone quite this big, and he couldn't deep throat Ty the way he wanted, not now and maybe not ever. But he sucked until his jaw ached, and Ty's pubic hair was wet with saliva, and then he raked his fingers through all that wetness and shoved a fingertip in Ty's hole.

That pushed Ty over the edge where he'd been teetering, and he came in a half-dozen hot pulses down Jonathan's wonderfully sore throat.

While Ty lay, perfectly still except for his heaving chest, his arms flung over his head and his face rapturous, Jonathan pushed down his sweats and pulled himself off in a few fast strokes, then pressed his face into Ty's sweaty thigh while he spilled his own release into the sheets.

Ty roused enough at that to make a low sound of protest, tugging at Jonathan until he obediently crawled up beside him. "I wanted to do that," Ty said sleepily, trailing his fingers over Jonathan's wet, flagging shaft, which was still so hypersensitive that Jonathan shuddered and caught Ty’s hand, kissing his palm then holding his hand to his chest as they arranged themselves into a more comfortable tangle against the pillows.

"Well, next time, then," Ty said, and their eyes met.

Jonathan heard the unspoken question strung between the words: Will there be a next time? Ty's tentative expression made Jonathan kiss him again. "Next time," he agreed.

Ty grinned. "Yeah." He nestled close, his cheek pressed to Jonathan's pounding heart, then slid his hands up the back of his shirt and stroked his back like he wanted to learn every dip and groove. "Next time."